Wet Paint
by Aerilon452
Summary: Helen and John are married and she tells him that they are going to paint together. This is Out of the Blue inspired.


Summary: Helen and John are married and she tells him that they are going to paint together. This is Out of the Blue inspired.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary

Rating: T

Pairing: Helen and John

**WET PAINT:**

Her morning was like any other; she sat painting listening to the man she loved in the kitchen making coffee and toast before he headed into the city. This was her life and she loved it even though her husband was a lawyer and she a bohemian painter, but they had never been happier. Helen drew her brush away from her latest work taking in the color. There was something missing from what she was looking at. "What did I miss?" she brought the tip of the brush up to her lips and chewed on the end of it, sinking her teeth gently into the wood.

John stopped what he was doing in the kitchen choosing to watch his wife. She was chewing the wooden tip of her brush while staring at her painting. He was her greatest fan. John could say the painting was amazing as it was, but Helen would still look for that one tiny flaw and correct it. It was better that he said nothing. Going to her he took a cup of coffee to her. John stood behind Helen, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She didn't react; she only leaned back into him and sighed with her eyes still glued to the landscape she had painted. Helen had brought to life the quaint little sea side cliff's and given them an array of color. Like all of her other work, those she didn't chose to keep, this one would more than likely be sold by her agent to private collectors. "What's the matter?" John had to ask.

"I don't know. I just feel as if I've missed something." Putting her brush aside Helen reached behind her and wrapped her arms around John. Helen sighed, "I worked on it all night and…" Gaining her feet she turned to John and said, "I hope I didn't keep you up with my loud music." She offered him an apologetic smile.

Arching one brow and wrapping his arms around her John answered, "Darling, after being with you for ten years I've grown used to all your nocturnal habits." Leaning in he kissed her gently. This was the woman he loved, the woman that he married. He never wanted anyone else.

Helen angled her head to the side taking her lips away from his, "So long as I didn't bother you. I know you have an important day today." She looked at the clock, "And if you don't leave now, you'll be late."

John ran his hands down her side, to the back of her thighs. Quickly he picked her up and drew her lips to his again in a fiery kiss that had his heart pumping and his blood boiling. In the back of his mind he knew she was right. Going over to the couch, still kissing her, John laid his wife down detaching his lips from hers. Smiling down at her John said, "I'll be home for dinner."

"I'll have it ready," Helen teased in a giggling voice. Only with John could she giggle like this.

"More like you'll be waiting for me to bring Chinese home." John replied and then kissed her forehead. "Rest and I'll see you tonight." And then he was heading for the front door.

Helen called after him, "Tonight you're painting with me!" Yeah; she could see John doing that. The last sound she heard from his was his dark silken chuckle as the door closed. Rolling to her side on the couch Helen could still see her painting. She could only contemplate what was missing for a few moments before she felt her eyelids closing and sleep claiming her.

**THAT NIGHT:**

John pulled up in his driveway already hearing the pounding music his wife loved to play when she was painting up a storm. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he climbed out of his car with the two bags of Chinese food in his hands. Idly he glanced over at the house next to theirs sending up silent thanks that their neighbors worked nights. No one else was around to complain about the music. John walked up on the porch and went inside so he could set the food down on the counter. With his hands free John could go in search of his wife. She wasn't painting in the living room like she usually liked to do. No, tonight she would set up in her little studio off the back of the house working on a large canvas.

He stopped in the doorway of her studio and just marveled at her. She was wearing old, ratty paint splattered jeans with holes in the knees and the back pockets falling off, with a black tank top, her hair pulled back out of her face. Helen was definitely a feast for the eyes. The music was loud; she was swaying to the beat, and just painting. It was nothing in particular. When she wanted to just paint for pleasure she would just paint anything and everything. Tonight seemed to be just as random. Her canvas was nothing but lines or varying colors. It was guilty indulgence that John had when he stood and just watched her. Backing away John went to their bedroom to change.

Ten minutes later he was back to watching her and wondering how she got a streak of purple on her right shoulder. Then John watched her draw her hand through the wet paint on the canvas and he nearly laughed. She was definitely trying out a different style tonight. Somehow John had a hard time seeing his wife doing the finger painting. But she was. "Are we having fun darling?" John strode over to her drawing Helen into his arms.

Helen had been in her own little world for the last hour, at least she thought it was an hour while she had just come back here to clear out the creative cobwebs in her brain that was keeping her from doing any actual painting. It had been fun. She had taken some of the paint cans she kept back her, stirred them up, and just started splattering her junk canvas's. Then she had switched it up by drawing odd shapes in the splatters getting the paint on her hands. She was an artist and artists were messy. Helen had been so caught up that she had completely forgotten about the time until John wrapped his warm, strong, arms around her. "I am actually, but… I'm starving." She tuned in his embrace draping her arms over his shoulders, careful to keep her paint covered hands off of his clothes.

John didn't even have to ask if she ate, sometime she forgot. "Well, I have the remedy for that my dear. Chinese is in the kitchen." He grinned at her stealing a quick kiss. John kept his arms around Helen and walked backwards out of her small studio and towards the kitchen. All the while he kept grinning at her and stealing kisses. He could feel the happiness pouring off of her and infusing him with warmth.

Despite feeling something was wrong with her painting Helen had felt happy all day. Now John was pulling her away from her studio and towards the kitchen with the promise of Chinese food. This day was better than most. Normally when she woke up John was already gone and breakfast would be waiting for her. But this morning was one of the rare mornings he went in later to work. "After we eat, you are painting with me." Helen had playfully threatened him with that this morning and she was going to hold true to it.

His first reaction would have been to argue with her, to tell her he had a lot of work to do, but it would have done no good. She had ways to persuade him to do anything and John would crumble. Rather than pick a fight John just gave in saying, "We have to eat first." Releasing her john moved around the center island grabbing plates and two wine glasses. The minute he had seen Helen in her studio John forgot all about the bad day he had had, but now it all came back to him. He felt suddenly tired.

Helen saw the change in her husbands demeanor, "Darling, what's wrong?" she asked going to him. He turned to her and she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. "My love we don't have to…"

John brought his finger up to her lips and quieted her, "Sh, sh, sh… I need your brand of fun to take my mind off of court today." He had been involved in two cases where the convictions had been overturned with faulty evidence. Now because of that two criminals were back out on the streets able to hurt someone.

"Oh, this is a change," Helen hopped up onto the island counter so she could look into John's eyes, "Normally if you have a bad day, you just want to lie in bed and cuddle with me. " The paint on her fingers had dried allowing her to run her hand down the side of his face. Helen wanted to comfort him anyway she could, anyway he wanted.

"Cuddling will come later, but I just need some fun." He pulled her to the edge of the counter getting her to wrap her legs around him. John rested his head on her shoulder just breathing her in. She smelled like paint, clean linens, and Japanese Cherry blossom lotion.

"What happened today?" Helen asked holding John closer. The food he brought home was forgotten. The painting was forgotten. All that mattered to her in that moment was getting to the root of her beloveds problem. When he was upset, his inner turmoil transitioned over to her. It made her hurt to see him like this.

"In court today we had two over turned convictions. They were solid cases, but all because some clerk in the police station mishandled evidence the cases were over turned." John put his hand flat on the counter on either side of Helen's this looking her in the eyes. He had been angry, then disgusted, and now he was working his way into the disappointed stage.

"Twice in one day? That's…" Helen slumped a little, "I'm sorry that happened." She didn't know what else to say. Legalese wasn't a language she could speak very well.

"They were solid cases. The convictions should have stuck." John growled out in anger at the whole situation once again leaning his head on Helen's shoulder. Right now all he wanted was his wife, wanted her scent around him, wanted her warmth to chase everything away.

"Food can wait," Helen whispered, "Let's paint your anger at what happened today." She offered and gave John a wide grin when he looked at her. This was what he needed, he said so himself. This was how she had fun and John wanted to spend sometime in her world. "Come on." Slipping down off the island Helen took John's hand pulling him back down the hall towards her studio.

John had taken off his button up shirt remaining in a pair of old blue jeans just staring at the canvas Helen had started fun painting on. Even though this was just for stress painting John didn't want to add anything to it. Anything she painted looked amazing. So, here he stood just staring at it while Helen picked out colors, changed the music. Was it too late to just take her to bed and cuddle with her? No, he was here and he would indulge in her world

"John?"

"Hmm," he turned to her and she was holding out her hand. The he noticed that she had taken off her wedding bad. There was a nail protruding for the wall where she had set her silver band. John took off his ring and handed it to her where the promptly put it on the nail with hers. He then looked at all the colors she had set out. They ranged fro the darkest red to the lightest blue with some black in there as well. "What should I do?" He asked.

Helen came to him, braced her hands on his back and laughed, "Anything you want." She kissed his shoulder continuing, "It's just a practice canvas. See I'll show you." Helen ran her right hand through some of the paint, mixing two different reds and a blue together, and she flicked her fingers causing paint to splatter all over the canvas adding another layer of paint. The colors ran together, mixing in the right way. "Your turn."

John did as his wife had done, dragging his fingers through the paint, mixing the white with the blue and the deep crimson. He went up to the upper left hand corner of the canvas putting his paint covered fingers to the colors already there and moved his hand back and forth smudging the wet paint. John stepped back looking at his smudge; it was drastically out of place. Behind him Helen could only laugh. Turning to her, he saw her hands with an array of colors on them. John had a moment to wonder what she was doing. Then she stood beside him, smudging her hands under his smudge. Whispering John said, "I guess this was a good idea after all."

Helen drew her hands back and rubbed at her chin, knowing that she left paint on her skin, "I think this was a very good idea." She agreed looking at John with a devilish gleam in her eye. Quick as she could she reached out and drew her hands down each side of John's face leaving a trail of blue/crimson on his skin. He rubbed at his face and laughed with her. But Helen didn't stop there. She drew her hands down his chest leaving more paint on him. "I think you make the better canvas."

"Oh you think so." John grabbed her about the waist, bringing her close, and with his paint covered hands he drew her camisole over her head exposing her pale flesh. Keeping one arm around her waist John reached back to dip the tips of his fingers in the paint he brought his hand back and drew a long straight black line down from her sternum to the top of her ratty jeans. "You make a great canvas too." John captured her lips. This was what he needed to take his mind off of the day he had. John had needed the loving touch of his wife. Tracing his hands over her waist to her thighs John effortlessly picked her up. He turned them so he could press her bare back up against the wet canvas coating her with even more paint. Helen pulled her lips away from his and laughed.

**THE NEXT MORNING:**

John woke to the sound of a fierce pounding coming from somewhere. He opened his eyes finding himself still in the little studio with Helen fast asleep under a paint stained sheet. The music had long since shut off and he was glad for the Saturday morning, but not thankful for the insistent pounding. Rolling onto his back John stretched before reaching for his pants. As quietly as he could John pulled on his jeans only bothering to zip them. He was only going to be taking them off again. It didn't even matter to John that he was still covered in paint, various blues, and reds, some white and even black. Last night had been one of his better nights.

Going to the front door, John could see through the glass that it was their neighbor. They really never had bothered to learn his name, but now John was going to have to deal with him. Taking a deep breath he opened the front door and said, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, do you mind keeping the music down." The neighbor threw up his hands in an exasperated manner, "You have is cranked up till all hours of the night! How is someone supposed to sleep?"

"My apologies." John cleared his throat, "But you see my wife is a painter and she stays up all night when her inspiration is the best. The music helps her." John rubbed at his neck, "If you are in desperate need of quiet, try ear plugs." He suggested wanting to turn when he heard the muffled sounds of Helen waking up.

"Really?"

"Artists," John smiled, "They have odd habits." He was about to shut the door when he paused and asked, "By the way, what's your name?"

"Nikola Tesla." He answered rolling his eyes.

"Ahh…" John shook his finger in a mindless gesturing way. "You're that scientist who's lived diagonally from us for…"

"For three years."

"And you're just now complaining?" John asked stretching arms up over his head. Sleeping on a floor wasn't quite how he remembered it.

"Look, can you just tell your wife to keep it down." Nikola stalked away muttering silently as he crossed the street.

John called after him, "I can try." He closed the door shaking his head. John stretched for a third time, a full body stretch with his eyes closing at how wonderful it felt. Some of his joints popped, but it was a good pop. It was then he felt arms snake around his torso. His wife was definitely awake now.

"Who was that?" she asked with sleep clouding her words.

"Our neighbor, Niko-something-or-other." John answered. He hadn't been paying much attention.

"You mean Tesla?" Helen asked looking back at the door. She tightened her arms around John pillowing her head on his painted chest. "He's weird." There wasn't anything wrong with saying that someone was weird. Tesla was definitely weird to her.

"Now I can see why." John answered kissing the top of Helen's head. "I have today off. Why don't you shower and I'll see what I can salvage from last night's dinner." He looked towards the kitchen where last night's Chinese food waited.

"Actually," Helen kissed the underside of John's chin, "You shower and I'll take care of the food." Pulling away from him she headed into the kitchen with John heading down the hall chuckling to himself. Helen stood by the sink, looking out at he street sighing. Life, for now, was perfect. She had a man that she adored. He was everything that she wanted. There were no boundaries for her other than her painting. Her life was as it should be; with John, as his wife. Helen Druitt couldn't be happier.


End file.
